In Indian Tents

The ants ran hastily into Hawk’s skull, and fed upon his brain.

“Now,” added Mosique, “my dear Little Birds, you know I have lived in my wigwam for a long time. I have never troubled any one, and no one has troubled me. This is the first one who ever came to disturb me. Here he lies. Tell your leader, the great Woodpecker, my worst enemy,34 what I say. I have never talked so much before in all my life; but do you tell him that if he ever comes to try to destroy my wigwam, I will serve him the same as that Hawk. I do not wish to defy him myself, but you can tell him for me.”

The Little Birds sewed leaves together, placed the Honorable Mosique on them, raised him high in air, and sang songs of rejoicing over him: —

“K’mūs’m S’n nāhā kisi nāhāhāt ō-usell ennīt kīlon wecki w’litt hassūl tīgiqu’,” or “our Grandfather Wood Worm has killed Hūhuss. This is what makes us so happy.”

Then they flew up almost to the sky, came down again, left Mosique in his wigwam and presented him with a tiny Wīsūwīgesisl, or Little Yellow Bird, – one of their best singers, – to be his comrade and musician.

Every morning she sings: “Ētuch ūlināgusk tīke ūspesswin!” (Oh, what a lovely, bright morning! Awake, all ye who sleep!)

This delighted Mosique.

Time passed, and the Raven fancied the looks of Mosique’s Singer, with her bright yellow feathers shining like gold. He said: “There is but one way to get the beautiful Singer, and that is to kill Mosique.

“But that is well-nigh impossible. While he is in his wigwam, no living creature can destroy him. There is but one way to kill him; but it is a sure way, I never knew it to fail. I have a piece of punk which my grandfather, the White Otter, gave me, that will do the work.”

So next morning, it being very windy, he went to the foot of the big tree where Mosique lived, put the punk close against the tree, set it on fire, and it soon blazed up. Now this was sure death to Mosique.

(Here part of the story seems to be missing, telling how the Worm escaped this “sure death,” but I have been unable to recover it, in spite of all my efforts. – A. L. A.)

Mosique, in his rage, gathered together all the Little Birds, and told his sad story to them.

“That White Bird,” said he, “has not treated me right; but I will have my revenge. I want you to take me where he lives.”

“We will take you to his wigwam, Grandpa,” said the Little Birds. So they sewed the leaves together again,35 and placing Mosique on them, flew off with him. They soon reached the residence of Raven. Mosique had with him a lot of “tebequenignel,” or Indian birch-bark torches. The Little Birds set him down within a few feet of the tall spruce-tree where the Raven lived. Now the Raven is an early riser, and goes to bed equally early; so, as soon as it was dark, Mosique crawled up the tree, and soon came to Raven’s door. He slipped in without being seen or heard, and bound Raven while he slept. Then he easily made his way down again, lighted his torches, and soon had the tree in flames. When the fire reached the Raven, he awaked and cried out: “Oh, Mosique, have pity on me, and untie me!” but Mosique heeded him not.

These bark torches always make a dense smoke, which soon blackened the Raven. As the flames drew nearer, the cords which bound the Raven were burned away, or snapped asunder, and he escaped uninjured. But his beauty was gone forever. Up to this time, he was a snow-white bird; but ever since he has been as black as charcoal, down to this very day.

THE END

1

This plant is much used by an Indian tribe in Lower California who are said to live to a great age, one hundred and eighty years being no uncommon term of life with them. It is not now known to exist among the Eastern Indians. It grew like maize, about two feet high, and was always in motion, even when boiling in the pot. Louis Mitchell’s mother, whom I knew well, received it from an Indian who wished to marry, and to whom she gave in return enough goods to set up housekeeping. She divided it with her four sisters, but at their death no trace of it was found. It gave him who drank it great length of life.

2

C. G. Leland gives a similar story in his “Algonquin Legends of New England.”

3

Magician.

4

A pack kettle made of birch bark, used by the Indian before the days of trunks. I have a toy one a hundred years old or more.

5

Grandmother.

6

This incident occurs in several tales.

7

Stones were heated in a fire on the ground, when red-hot, cold water was thrown on them to make a steam.

8

A different version of this story is given in C. G. Leland’s “Algonquin Legends of New England,” Houghton & Mifflin, Boston, 1884.

9

Red-headed duck.

10

Leather pouch.

11

A kiawākq’s little finger possesses the power of speech, and always warns him of approaching danger.

12

C. G. Leland gives similar stories in his “Algonquin Legends of New England.”

13

See also C. G. Leland’s “Algonquin Legends of New England,” Houghton & Mifflin, for similar stories.

14

An evil witch, see Leland’s “Algonquin Legends of New England.”

15

Willow saplings, covered with fungus growth, found about marshy places where frogs live.

16

Friend.

17

The Southwest Wind usually brings warm rain, which brightens the face of Nature.

18

The Southwest Wind blows hither and thither, very capriciously, like the tossing of a ball.

19

A mythical bird whose wings are so large as to darken the sun when he flies between it and the earth. Indians believe that they must fall on their faces when he flies by, or be blind till sunset.

20

When Passamaquoddy Indians catch a grasshopper, they hold him in the palm of the hand and say, “Give me a chew of tobacco.” The liquid that the insect spits looks like tobacco juice.

21

Wampum.

22

The skin of a white bear is very powerful in magic.

23

The Indian who told this tale explained it as being the story of the white man and the red man. The white man is the Porcupine who came from afar with an army of swords. He promised fairly; he had everything; the Indian had only his arrows and his land. He thought it was wisest to say: “Take what you will.” But the white man killed him, and took all his land.

24

Wood worms.

25

This version of “The Fox and the Crane” shows how the Indian changed the fables of Æsop and La Fontaine, told him by French missionaries, to suit his own native surroundings.

26

Old Māli Dana, the Passamaquoddy squaw, when asked to explain these words, replied: “That what Squirrel say when he get frightened or cross.”

27

This bird seems to be the robin.

28

This appears to have no meaning, but to be only an attempt on the part of the Indian story-teller to imitate the notes of the bird.

29

K’mūsamīs’n.

30

Rabbits ever since have had short tails.

31

These words are in an ancient tongue whose meaning is now known to none of the Indians, the words only being retained.

32

The Indians formerly used this with flint to light their fires.

33

Mīko had made good his escape before the fire got to burning well; but his beautiful silky coat of brown fur was scorched red by the heat, and has remained so ever since.

34

Woodpeckers devour the wood worms.

35

A worm, of course, could not fly.